


Goddamit 007

by Aminias



Category: James Bond (Craig movies), James Bond - All Media Types, James Bond - Ian Fleming
Genre: 002 is fed up with 007's shit and is ready to get laid, 007 Is a Little Shit, BAMF 002, BAMF Women, Dom/sub Undertones, F/M, Humor, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Multi, Starring James Bond as the ultimate cockblock, Sub Q, Women In Power, women in charge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-22
Updated: 2016-12-22
Packaged: 2018-09-11 05:00:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8954623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aminias/pseuds/Aminias
Summary: Marina fancies she can hear the stutter of his heart beat with every breath. How his chest shakes when she trails her fingers over his face. The desperation that courses over him as she thumbs his lip.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Also known as the numerous times James Bond unintentionally cockblocked and the one time he didn't
> 
> A gift for KJ
> 
> This was good fun hope you enjoy

Double 002 of MI6 is known for many things: her appreciation of knives, excellent hair, and competence in the field. The sight of her in simple cargos and a messy updo,  not so much.

Bond plants  himself in front of her desk which means he isn’t in front of Q’s. _Even better,_ thinks the Quartermaster.

It gives him more time to chew the man out later  for the impromptu fireworks in Tokyo. _Goddammit 007! Did he  really need to make every place he went a pyre to chaos?_

“I swear you're as bad as Q. The man wouldn’t know what to do without Cardigans.” Bond laughs.

002  doesn’t even stop reading her paper work. The movement of her pen over paper becomes slightly pointed. If she were holding a knife, it would have been considered slicing or cutting.

“Am I not allowed to have a casual outfit?” The woman asks.

“Hmm...you could always come to my place and get more casual,” 007 leers.

Q frowns into his mug as he takes a sip of tea.

“Bond, is that a euphemism for ‘death wish?’”

The tea nearly comes back up through his nose.The minions titter fretfully .

Bond, proving  that he has no sense, presses his advance.

Q attempts to look very interested in his work rather than 002’s next move.

“Save it for later. Better yet, drop it in the trash along with yourself on the way out, 007.”

The tea is now lodged in his lungs.  R carefully pats  him on his back under the guise of looking at some code.

“That’s 002 for you. Too good for the rest of us mortals, even in that getup.”

“I think she is  rather fetching.”

“Shush! She’s looking this way!”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“You know what happened to the last guy. ”

“That’s just a rumor.”

“Are we talking about 002? Look, just forget about it; complete bitch.”

Q rises from his seat, mouth firm. “Devene, are your projects done?” the man blanches the floodlights, making his skin ghastly.

“I'll take that as a no. Monroe, go fetch some tea” Q raises his brow. “don’t spit in it. I’ll know. Sam, make yourself scarce.”

Q jerks his hand.

“Well, what are you waiting for?”  

“Yes sir.”

Good deed done, Q idly tucks his stylus behind his ear and goes  back to his code. He has no more time to devote to idiot underlings.

If he looks up he might notice  a pair of green eyes discreetly staring his direction.

002 has been tracking the entirety of proceedings with a small smile resting on her face.

* * *

 

“Bond, it's been said before but I’ll say it again. You're an  imbecile.”

“Q!”

“Don’t ‘Q’ me! This cannot wait! M’s riding my ass!”

“Well that just killed my lady boner.” Bond retorts.

“Eyes on the prize, 007, and not Mrs.Summers in a dress.” Q reminds.

“What's wrong with being confident ...not all of us are lucky enough to have M in our pants.”

“007, why are you more concerned with what's in my pants than the mission?”

“The mission this, the mission that.” Bond grumbled.

“Reload already and hit your target..try not to miss 007.”

“Are you going to tell what the fucks for dinner next or can I do my job?””

“Do you kiss you mother with that mouth?” Q snaps back.

“Dirty, I like it,” 007 purrs over the comms.

“Oh Bond, you have no idea.”

A mug of tea appears in Q’s field of vision. Mindlessly he reaches for it, fingers brushing the holder’s hand. He looks up with a startled gasp directly in the face of 002.

“For some reason I found myself with extra tea lately. It's almost as if Santa's Elves have come early.” She smiles in that beatific intimidating manner befitting to Queens. He carefully takes the mug which features cheerful cartoon kittens from her hands. “Thank you,” he mutters, staring at the tea.  

“You're welcome,” 007 chimes, startling him.  It appears, to  his surprise, that he’d forgotten to mute the channel.

“I was referring to 002, who, unlike _some,_ manages to do things without multiple explosions.”

“So that’s what we're calling it these days?”

“007,” Q snaps in reprimand. It takes all he has to not shove his head in his hands in utter mortification.

He would give anything for the ground to swallow him at this moment, but he settles for smiling apologetically at 002. For her part, the agent seems more amused than angered. The next several minutes pass  in a flurry of swiftly traded barbs and exchanges of“007 No,” “007 yes,” and other nonsense. “007 duck when I say duck you prat!” By the end of it Q is exhausted but unable to wipe the fierce smile, a mixture of bared teeth, aggravation, and grimace, from his face.

“You seem tense.”

He can see her image in the montier, a vision in her tailored  suit jacket and pants, ready to topple whole countries with only a bobby pin from her sleek bun. Q can’t help but notice the reflection of his own rat’s nest in the screen monitor. “Herding cats will do that to you.” He assesses the damaged specs with a wry smile.  

“Cats I can do.” Q amends, rubbing his eyes before shoving his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

“You have a point,” 002 offers. She must have been standing behind his chair for ages. In the midst of everything, he didn't hear her come around the desk.

But then that is kind of the point of a secret agent, isn’t it?

He closes a few programs, keenly aware of her presence.

She steps closer, leaning in to point out something on the screen. Her hand rests on his chair shoulder for balance. It isn’t an unusual move, but she places the entirety of her arm behind his back. The action is a bit more than just simply leaning a hand on his chair to observe.

“..that one's more like a bulldog puppy.”

Q blinks. “I..I.. I must have got lost in my code. Can you please repeat that?”

“My..my..” She purrs near his ear, breath teasing his neck. “Aren't you a polite one..”

“Ma’am?” He breathes, hands twitching over the keys.

“Q, I need evac,” Bond whines over the comms. 002 smoothly removes her arm from him.

She's gone in moments. Q feels he could have imagined it all, if not for the empty kitten mug that sits on his desk corner. “Barcelona is mostly a smoking ruin. You might want to get someone on that.”   _Goddammit 007, every time._

* * *

 

“Greetings, 002.”

“Salutations, 007. Have you come to mess something up again?” She arches an eyebrow in challenge.

“Looking resplendent in veridian tonight, Miss Allen,” He offers.

“You flatter me, Bond. Tell me, was the choice of a charcoal suit suppose to make you look dapper?”

“Like a fine wine, I only get better with age.”

“Agents! Try not to cause a scene before you enter the party,” Q says into the comms.

“Understood, Q.”

“Thank you, 002.” He smiles. At least someone here is competent.

“You heard the man,” 007 grins.. “Ladies first.”

“Pearls before swine; a wise choice,” Marina quips before gliding into the room.

The Ballroom couldn’t be more lavish  if it tried. The decadence on display did nothing against the hollow knowledge of where that money came from. Blood money is being passed around and there are sharks in the water.

Q plays at idly sipping his wine, for he is just another suit at the function as the cases the exits. It's not often he goes out into the field, but sometimes it simply cannot be helped.

002 strides into the room. Her dress flows around her. Bond is for once correct; she does make quite the picture with her red hair and that green dress. A viper weaving through the leaves as she makes her way toward him through the crowd.

The waltz plays and it simply would not be fitting to stand around. If he doesn’t ask her to dance, it's clear numerous men shall, and he’ll never find her again tonight in the mirid of people.

 _It will make conveying info twice as hard,_  is what Q tells himself.

That's the only explanation for what he does next. “Care for this dance... Miss?”

“Call me Marina..” 002  counters the picture of lethal attraction as she prowls across the space.

They easily fall into step. “What shall we talk about..Marina?” Q asks. He might be leading this dance, but she is definitely in control of the situation.

“There's always the weather.”

“Rainy and miserable?”

“That topic’s shot.”

“You’d know all about that.” His  grin echoes her  own pleased laughter.

He carefully prompts her into a twirl.

“I know 002, but what does Marina enjoy?”

“Oh?” she smiles, causing his stomach to flip.. “That’s not so hard. Much the same, puns, guns, and pointy things.”

“Diamonds not your best friend?”

“I like shiny things as much as the next gal, but I’ve always preferred them a bit rough.”

He nearly misses  his next step and stumbles into a nearby couple. It is only the firm guidance of 002 that saves him.

“Easy there,” She chuckles,  green eyes sparkling with mirth. The bright light shines off her hair, highlighting the  natural streaks of red in the rich burgundy.

His breath catches it is  all he could do to keep time.

“You are beautiful.” He blurts out unable to help himself.  A bright flush spreads over her cheeks. Q can  feel his own face burning.

“Marina that was highly inappropriate of me I understand if you-”

“Hush..”  She abruptly cuts him off. “Don’t be silly.”“

He all but hangs his head and tucks his tail chastised.

“I’m rather serious Ma’am.” Q bites his lip nervous, gently she places a hand under his chin.

“This again? You think too much.”  Marina watches the bob of his adam's apple. So tempting she  could just lean in and bite. Is this how Eve felt?  

“I look lovely and you can't very well get in trouble for telling the truth.” She muses.

“Were you telling the truth?”

“I..I..Yes.” He ducks his head cheeks crimson.

“Good.” She whispers his body shudders as the word curls up his spine

“Not to interrupt but to interject I might need some assistance up here.” Q is thrown for a moment his heart rushes in his chest adrenaline coursing through his veins.

Parts of him are strongly aware of how close they are.

That  flush against each other it's the nearest he’s been to another person. She is elegant and voluptuous against the the rigid planes of his body.

“James, are you missing any limbs?”  Marina asks a serene expression on her face..Q’s seen that exact same look before she took out five Russians with only an acrylic nail

“No, but-”

“Then shut up.” The Quartermaster manages to bite out briefly roused from his stupor.

“Or you're going to be.” 002 adds sugar sweet. She has her eyes on the prize and is set on more than just winning. She might not be the gambler 007 is but she does know how to play her cards right. Tonight she’s going to cash in with this treasure of a man in her arms. Nothing less than this wild-haired nymph with his wide blue eyes in her bed will suffice.

Then the windows explode. “Fuck.” Q exclaims searching for his glasses hands flailing blindly his body pinned by her. “I wish.  002 laments.

“You know when I envisioned us rolling around later  this wasn’t what I had in mind.” Marina says catching sight of the man's glasses. “Stop that before you cut yourself.” She orders smoothly pinning his wrists.

“Calm down.” Marina demands. Q’s vibrating beneath her a sail at the center of a mighty gale. She plucks the glasses from the ground and slides them onto his face.

“There..” Q’s lashes flutter. Those pert lips are open for the plundering. She aches to taste. His blue eyes have turned dark navy blue pupils blown wide. She wants to stick her hand in and yank on that hair which is attempting to escape every which way it can.Marina fancies she can hear the stutter of his heart beat with every breath. How his chest shakes when she trails her fingers over his face. The desperation that courses over him as she thumbs his lip. She leans in intent on sealing the deal.

Marina fancies she can hear the stutter of his heart beat with every breath. How his chest shakes when she trails her fingers over his face. The desperation that courses over him as she thumbs his lip. She leans in intent on sealing the deal.

How his chest shakes when she trails her fingers over his face.

The desperation that courses over him as she thumbs his lip. She leans in intent on sealing the deal.

That’s when the gunshots start a semi-automatic then a Walther.

Seconds later in a shower of sparks part of the room explodes.

_Goddammit 007 everytime._

 

* * *

 

“Everything finished up here? I know 007 left quite the mess..”

“Funnily enough I haven’t heard from him recently.” Q pauses raising his eyebrows. 002 crosses her arms with a smirk.

Q glances over a few more papers clearing his throat. “Usually he’d be by to complain about his gun.”

“He seems to spend a lot of time fixated on his...gun.”

“Yes, you can  imagine my surprise at his ….absence.”

“Most likely cashing in on those vacation days somewhere...far away..” Marina offers.

Q shakes his head disbelievingly.“You know double 0’s their favorite game is prod the  Quartermaster.”

“Oh? Maybe I’m the exception since my favorite game is caress the Quartermaster.”

“That certainly puts some  things in perspective.”

“Doesn’t it just.” There is a feral edge to her grin the kind that appears only when she is closing in for the kill. That smirk still rests on her face.

The slant of her lips is the sexiest dare he’s ever received.

His pulse quickens thrumming in his ears. The hair on his neck rises. Her gaze tracks his every move. Q knows with startling clarity, on this occasion..he is the prey.

Q swallows because his mouth is watering.. He tugs on his cardigan desperately trying to ignore his blood's movement southward.

He fiddles with the zipper of his computer case. He spends what feels like several minutes  (unsuccessfully)  ignoring the arch of her eyebrow.

Q  continues with unsteady hands to pack up his laptop. It's either that or fall to his knees then and there begging to do her will.

“Let’s go.” She says.

“Yes.” He easily agrees. (If he’s being honest Q never once considers answering “no” an option.)

(the end)

**Author's Note:**

> 002 briefly disposed of 007 don't get between a women and her boo
> 
> How did I do?


End file.
